#good enough for me and i guess that's all i'll ever be

[hollowgears]

SHOWDOWN!

"If you're ever in the desert of the underground you better watch out! In the wild east lies a city full of criminals and outcasts who bow down to no one!"

Their sheriff is just as insane as the rest of them, always itching for a fight, the spotlight hog of the wild east, North star! If there's one person the scoundrels of the city listen to it's him, after all no monster can argue against a gun pointed at their face

Still- rumors say that the cruel sheriff actually has a heart behind his act, the monsters working under him act with a lot of respect, many rebels say that he gave them a home safe from the royal guard when no one else would...maybe there's still a heart of gold behind that rude exterior? Who knows!

Thoughts and extras:

Woah! I can't believe I finally got this done!

Starlo was a challenge to design for sure, his canon look is already so good! It was hard to make it different while still looking like something starlo could wear

My art has definitely improved quite a bit since starting this au (god I already feel like I need to redraw martlet!) and I wanted starlo to feel special as he was the first design that really...clicked y'know? I look at it and go: that's my boy!

Working on the au has also been a blast, and I can't thank you guys enough for the support, every reblog or fanart makes my days so much better

But enough about that! Let's talk of the star boy!

As you can see I struggled quite a bit with his outfit (this is not by far the first attempt I made at him) in the beginning I almost took his poncho away! The blasphemy!

Well I guess even now it doesn't exactly qualify as a poncho...but hey close enough

Starlo uses three guns, although only two of them are seen most of the time, in this au starlo actually gets a proper genocide fight, and that's when he pulls out the big guns! (Haha get it-)

He would also have a special type of attack, yellow bullets that cause bleeding (think like karma damage) however the number of these types of bullets he fires is completely dependent on your LV

I'll answer any questions y'all have about him on asks- trust me I'm always itching to talk about these silly guys...

Perhaps ceroba would be next? Although she will take a while, god my wrist needs a break! (And the pile of studying I have to do keeps growing larger...)

[janeyseymour]

La Costa Nostra- pt 21

Cowritten w @schemmentis

Summary: You find yourselves falling into this new life. Meanwhile, things back at home change.

WC: ~2.05k

The girls love their new school- something you’re eternally grateful for. You manage to find a new business to manage the accounts of, free of any secondhand business on the side while your wife falls back into teaching like she used to before she left to open her restaurant.

This life is different, but it isn’t unwelcome. You easily blend in to the always lit and alive city. You spend much of your time out exploring, finding new special spots and diners to take your girls. You even join a new perish- one that you know will never quite feel like the one back in Philly. The people there are nice enough, but no one will ever be Barbara and Gerald Howard.

Meanwhile, back in Philadelphia, Gerald Howard brings the ledger into his place of work. He calls up the two who handled your case to begin with and brings them in while his wife is there.

Together, the four of them promise to take down the mafia. Neither agent lets it slip that the four of you are still alive; Danik almost does though at Barbara’s shed tears for your twins.

Instead, Danik puts herself into the work at the end of your case. The dismantling of the mafia in the city. A workaholic already, she pushes herself even further. It's only Shaw that reminds her to sleep, at least for an hour or two. To eat, even just a few bites. Danik might know the truth of you and your family being alive. It doesn't negate that there are people out there who would stoop to order the hit. To include two very young children in that hit.

They start back at the very beginning. Working through your old salon and Melissa's cherished restaurant. Neither look the same now, a few months since your ‘deaths’. It's far more obvious now that both locations are fronts. Whoever is running things is getting sloppy. Danik guesses because they've run out of people they can use to hide behind; like you and Melissa were. The members of Cosa Nostra are front and center now. Running in and out of both the salon and restaurant at all hours.

“That definitely wasn't as good as the last time we were here.” Shaw mutters as he follows Danik out of Twelve Tables.

“I'll give her this much;” Danik starts as she gets into their unmarked car. “Melissa was much better with the food than whoever is back there now.”

Shaw sighs as Danik begins driving back down the street. “Back to the salon? Again?”

“Yes. We're closer there than we are with the restaurant. Besides, I called Andretti. He's still undercover and is with the Italians. He's going to try to nab Luca tonight. I need to be there.”

“Grace, you need a break.” Shaw says quietly from the passenger seat. It's rare for them to use their first names, but in the last few months it's grown in frequency. He silently blames a former Melissa Schemmenti and her teasing him from her hospital bed.

He hasn't asked his work partner out. He won't until the case is done. Still, he's been driven to show his affection for her in trying to make sure she takes care of herself at least while they work. Because if people around here are okay killing kids; there's a good chance they're more than okay with killing a federal agent or two in the right circumstances. Circumstances they're pushing their luck on every day and have been for a long time now.

“Ben.” Agent Danik says, almost sounding through her teeth. She's grown from looking at him with a glare for pulling out first names to returning the use of them. At least sometimes. It's progress. “Not tonight, alright? Just…tonight could be the break we need. Leave me be about the rest shit. Just for tonight.”

Agent Shaw sighs. “Just for tonight.” He reluctantly agrees as his partner parks their car adjacent to the salon. “But tomorrow, you’re sleeping. I’ll drag you to bed myself if it means you’ll get sleep.”

He doesn’t miss the blush that creeps into his colleague’s cheeks.

From here, they can see the front through the large glass windows. The very few clients and hair stylists moving about the front. They can also see down the side alleyway. The door you told them any side business went in and out of. The occasional meeting was held in the alley, too.

Tonight, there's a figure leant against the brick next to that door. The dim glow of a cigarette seen each time a draw is taken from it. In the light of dusk, it isn't easy to make features from where the figure stands. Though the height and build matches Luca Bellino.

“There's Andretti.” Grace says with a nod to a man walking down the sidewalk, from the direction of Twelve Tables.

Andretti turns down the smaller path of the alley way. It's then that the figure near the back door of the salon drops the cigarette, stomped out beneath a shoe. The figure steps closer to the street to meet the undercover officer halfway. Just enough distance for the street lamp to illuminate features. It's without any doubt Luca Bellino.

Shaw and Danik watch silently over the next few minutes. The conversation can't be well heard from their car, though they're certain Andretti has some recording device hidden. It looks like a normal conversation between friends. Like two men chatting and catching up over newly lit cigarettes. Until finally, Andretti pulls a thick, nearly over-filled, envelope from beneath his jacket and passes it to Luca.

Danik is already throwing open her car door and tugging her holstered weapon out as she crosses the street.

Shaw scrambles to follow after her, not bothering to even close his car door. He jogs to catch up to her, pulling out his own weapon in case.

“Freeze!” Danik calls once she's on the sidewalk. “Put your hands where I can see them.”

Both Luca and Andretti raise their hands in compliance. Danik nods for Shaw to cuff Andretti to maintain his cover as much as they possibly can. “You're under arrest.” Danik says as she tugs Lucas's hands behind his back to cuff him herself.

“The fuck?” Luca spits, turning to Andretti in a look of panic. He tries to look over his shoulder at Agent Danik. “What for?”

“Money laundering.”

“Money laundering?!” the nephew of Melissa shouts. “This isn’t money laundering! He owes me money for buying my car!”

“From a fat manilla envelope in a dark alleyway?” Danik shoots out. “Sure. We’ll believe it when we see it.”

The two men are taken into the station, and Andretti is a great actor it turns out. He huffs about the entire time that he knows Luca can hear him. And then they’re separated, and the undercover cop breathes a sigh of relief.

“Jesus, Shaw,” Andretti sighs as he rubs at his wrists. “Did you have to cuff me that aggressively?”

“Maintaining the story,” Shaw chuckles. “Sorry man.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Danik rolls her eyes at the two. “Shaw, get in there and get him to say something- anything. About the Schemmentis, about the hit on Bobby, about Cosa Nostra. Anything.”

Benjamin Shaw would be lying to himself if he said that Grace Danik ordering him around like that wasn’t hot. He obliged her orders, storming into the interrogation room.

As soon as he’s in there, Luca spills everything aside from the fact that he’s the one who was contracted to kill you and your family. Of course, he only offers up the information at a deal of not being put into jail and only paying a small fine in comparison to what he would have actually had to pay if not for the information.

Danik’s eyes raise at all of this information coming so freely. He tells who is in charge, the way that the Schemmenti family found their way into the mob- the fact that you were tied into the Irish side of it all. He takes down Tony and Uncle Dominic, and everyone else who was involved. Luca tells where they’re all planning on meeting tonight.

The police hold Luca until they can round up everybody within the family. Danik and Shaw are able to come out of the raid without a scratch on them, although other members of the family aren’t so lucky. They manage to keep both Tony and Uncle Dominic alive- if only for the information that they hold. Others are slain as they all turn on each other and try to find out who the rat is, pulling guns out of their coat pockets and firing without hesitation.

The next day, Mickey is set free from prison. He knows that originally, you, Melissa, and the girls were supposed to be the ones to come retrieve him and bring him out into the world for the first time in years. Instead, it’s Kristen Marie. He’s thrilled to see his blonde sister, but what he really wants is to see the four of you.

When he cries, Kristen can only pat his arm in an awkward fashion. She thinks his tears are being shed because he’s finally on the outside- only until he chokes out Melissa’s name and your own does she understand why he breaks down on the sidewalk of the prison building. He drops to his knees as ugly sobs wrack through his body. He was looking forward to the day that he would be able to hug your girls for the first time as a free man- to be able to pick you up and spin you in a circle without the guards looking at him as if he were clinically insane. All he wants is to be able to punch his oldest sister in the arm with a shit eating grin without having to worry about being chastised by security.

That Sunday, he finds himself slipping into the church that he knew the four of you attended. He recognizes Barbara Howard right away. As he makes the sign of the cross over his chest, he looks up at the ceiling- as if he could see that the four of you were looking down on him. He goes to slide into the pew, but a quick hand stops him.

“This seat is taken.”

“Barbara,” Mickey whispers softly through the sermon. Only then does the woman look at Melissa’s brother and see eyes that resemble your wife’s so clearly.

“Mickey?” she gasps softly as she pulls her hand away from the spot and invites him in.

The three, Mickey and the two Howards, end up at your diner in the booth that you always sit in. For the first time in months, breakfast isn’t a silent affair. Mickey trades stories about his sister and you from your past while the Howards tell him about what the four of you were up to for all the time he was behind bars. It’s therapeutic in a way for all three of them. He promises to meet them again for the next sermon.

That's the start of a new tradition. One similar to the one you, Melissa and your girls had with the Howards. Sunday morning services, Sunday brunch. Mickey fills the pew for you. They don't let anyone else sit in that last pew. After a few weeks, they don't even have to tell anyone the seats are taken. Your old parish knows not to even try.

@thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[1-1-s1ay-2-2]

Don't lose yourself to find someone else

Would you believe I was happy for two, whole days and so I guess experiencing the feeling of happiness made me sleep better, even sleep peacefully and fall asleep at a "normal" time...but somehow, that got me in trouble too and was the wrong thing for me to do.

So, you see how when I'm not happy or I'm going through something unpleasant, I'm restless and up all night with a bazillion thoughts.

#moodboard #mood #bored #gifs #photos #art #artist #longpost

[raveartts]

turt

[keeps-ache]

mm i Neeed to go the beach

[witherbythesword]

Sometimes i think: "well there aren't much serious problems anymore that i have to work through"

and then i have to face the fact that someone wanting to give me pleasure feels like being offered something i truely don't deserve, like just the thought of admiting i want it is something i should be punished for and makes me wanna cry 👍

[tathrin]

do you ship barduil would you ever write it?

No and no. I don't have a problem with the ship—it's not a notp for me—I just don't ever feel any interest in it, either.

You have to remember I still haven't even seen the third Hobbit movie and I've only watched the first two once each, so the ~vibes~ that fuel most of the fandom's interest in ships that sprang from it just aren't applicable in my case, sorry.

But I don't think there's anything wrong with it as a ship, and I can understand the theory of its appeal as a concept. I get where "grim widower elf-king and grim widower human king who end up fighting a war together, with grim elf king saving grim human king's people both with food and force of arms, and then afterwards they learn to love again together" appeals to folks. That's a foundation that definitely makes sense. I just don't have any personal feelings for the relationship.

And "mildly approving apathy" isn't a great foundation for writing a ship upon, so no. No barduil writing likely here XD

[dandyshucks]

whyyyy does nobody ever come back to this group fjdkdl they show up once for a first time and then never return !!! its kind of crushing bc some ppl I've been like... excited at the prospect of seeing them again and then they just never show up ever again :')

and I didn't even get to draw anything good while sitting there !!! AUGH

[flufflecat]

can writers stop amounting their characters to such a husk of themselves that them literally killing themselves for no reason is considered a good death

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

You know that bit of year eleven where you've finished all the content for the courses you're doing but it isn't quite exam season yet so it just feels like you're in limbo... how from the very start of the year I just felt like I was waiting for the 15th of May, to start the exams I've been prepared for since I was four... all the threats and practice and now it's real and it's like you just can't process it, something that has been nothing but a looming shadow for so long is suddenly so real and just around the corner. Full circle. It'll all be over and my mind just can't figure out what to do with that knowledge.

[disdaidal]

I reinstalled Windows on my laptop and it feels good to start anew.

Just so I can again fill it up with unnecessary junk again and then cry myself to sleep every night lol.

I also removed lots of bloatware and I actually have a sufficient amount of space on my OS (C: drive), which is fucking great because I now can finally play the Sims 4 again. 😭

[beast-feast]

What if I deactivated

[artistisdead]

can't believe i did an accidental 'sleeping with other people/when harry met sally...' double feature tonight wtf is wrong with me making myself, someone who never had any romantic relationship, fling nor any suitors ever in my life, feel so fucking lonesome i am clinically insane someone pls lock me up lol

[helladventurers]

Got some more Zooey practice in, I'm almost done practicing her combos 😤👏 I'm having a bit of trouble with the timing of some of them, but I feel like with enough practice I can get good at pulling them off consistently

[sapsolais]

'

[luveline]

I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before. 

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you." 

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck. 

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly. 

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity. 

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now." 

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him. 

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly. 

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for. 

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired." 

"You don't. Short shift?" 

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold." 

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them." 

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling. 

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned. 

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified. 

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp. 

"Can I ask you something too personal?" 

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask. 

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it. 

"Are you making enough money?" he asks. 

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay." 

"Did you think about it?" 

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?" 

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down. 

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend." 

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault? 

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both." 

"You could stay with me again." 

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no." 

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here. 

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed." 

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him. 

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved. 

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.  

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you. 

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence." 

You're out like a light.